


Tony Stark and Steve Rogers Figure Out How Feelings Work

by StoicObsidian



Series: I Know the Sound, the Sound of Your Heart [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: All my non-canon wishes, Avengers Family, Civil War Is Not A Thing, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Literally so AU, M/M, Mostly fluff but some h/c
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoicObsidian/pseuds/StoicObsidian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, never expected to find himself a part of a team, let alone a family. But when the Avengers move into Stark Tower, Tony must not only deal with learning to live with other people, but how to live with someone he's utterly, completely in love with. </p><p>Meanwhile, Steve Rogers is trying to figure out how to communication his adoration via emoji. </p><p>Everyone else can't make popcorn fast enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist Seeks Subletters

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! This is my first fanfiction in this fandom and on this website, but not my first fanfic ever. Unbeta'd, but I hope you enjoy anyways!!! 
> 
> \- XO, Obsidian

After the Battle of New York, the Avengers found themselves drifting apart - Thor had, of course, taken Loki back to Asgard to face judgement; Steve returned to Washington D.C. and his punching bags; Natasha and Clint vanished practically off the face of the earth, presumably to lick their wounds together, and Bruce returned to India to continue his work. Tony, however, found himself left behind with a smoldering tower, a very distraught soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, and more PTSD than he was really willing to admit.

These problems, thankfully, seemed to mostly sort themselves out. Despite the cracked concrete and shattered glass, the infrastructure of Stark Tower was undamaged, and overall the repairs (during which he once again found himself doing some heavy lifting) went fairly quickly.

His relationship with Pepper worked itself out with almost as much ease, and maybe even more grace. While neither of them wavered in their affection towards each other - which despite the snide remarks and disappointed sighs, had always been real and steady - Pepper realized in the aftermath of the battle that she could not be both the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and the worried girlfriend of a superhero at the same time. And as it always did with Pepper, her work won out. She and Tony parted ways amicably, only to be reunited two hours later (and only mildly awkwardly) in a board meeting.

The PTSD, on the other hand, didn't seem to want to quiet down. Despite medication and a S.H.I.E.L.D-issued therapist, Tony still found himself jolting awake in the middle of the night, stars dancing around his head and the sensation of falling heavy in his gut. Some nights, he was able to calm his breathing, close his eyes, and fall back into a fitful sleep. Other nights - most nights, if he was honest with himself - he found himself down in his workshop, updating and redesigning his armor until it may as well have been its own person. 

It was on a night like this, when the nightmares wouldn't leave him even after he was awake, that he found himself standing in the middle of his workshop, at a bit of a loss. He didn't feel like working on his armor -quite frankly, he wasn't even sure if he could possibly upgrade it even more, though that was definitely a question to be revisited in the morning. Not for the first time, he wished that Pepper was still here, or that he had actually hired a night guard like Happy had begged him to. Anything to know that he wasn't the only living creature in this massive monolith of cool steel.

With this thought bouncing around in his head, he staggered over to his desk and pulled out a tablet, starting to sketch out some schematics without really thinking about it. The tower was well reinforced, but some of the windows should be replaced with bulletproof glass in case Bruce ever Hulked out on one of the upper floors. Maybe a mediation room, if he ever stayed over and found himself getting stressed. Clint liked high places and having a good line of sight - he could put him in the penthouse - Tony, preferring to sleep close to his workshop, when he slept at all, had left the top floor mostly untouched. A training room for Natasha and Clint to beat each other up in, a living room with state of the art surround sound, a kitchen with enough space to accommodate Thor's coffee and Pop-Tart addiction, and a quiet room with a backlit drawing table for Cap all somehow made it onto the tablet. Within the next hour, the majority of the materials that he would need for the renovations had been ordered, and he managed to curl up on the couch for a two-hour catnap.

He called Pepper and begged off of work for the next week, citing a cold that he didn't actually have. Pepper, bless her heart, read between the lines and agreed to make his excuses. As soon as the materials he had ordered arrived and Jarvis had them sent up, he locked himself into the tower and proceeded to completely redesign the top ten floors of the building. The next week - which passed by in a haze of caffeine fueled productivity and contained more than one nap in the sand pit he'd built for Bruce's bonsai garden - he completely overhauled the place until it looked like an Avengers-worthy home (base). 

Now, all he had to do was convince the others to move in. 

_______

He started off with Bruce, as he figured that the big guy would be the easiest of his teammates to persuade - and if he wasn't, then at least he'd be the gentlest in letting Tony down. 

Tony had refused to let the other Avengers leave New York without personalized, completely untraceable Starkphones, so it wasn't hard to find Bruce's number. It was, however, apparently impossible to get the man to actually pick up. Tony called six times over three days (he didn't want to risk seeming needy, but the fact was that he had woken up curled around the half-finished robot body he was building for Jarvis, so it was clear that he was in desperate need of human contact), and it took another twelve hours after that for Bruce to call him back. When he finally did, he sounded completely exhausted. 

"Hey Tony, what's the emergency?"

"Bruce, my science bro," Tony responded, leaning back in his chair, "if this had been an actual emergency, I probably would have been dead by now." 

Bruce sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. I was out in a couple of the rural villages and I lost cell service. I didn't even get the calls until I got back last night." 

"Wait, what do you mean, you lost cell service? Starkphones are designed to never lose service! They’re supposed to get service on the other side of the galaxy!" Tony sat forward again, suddenly anxious about his technology’s performance. 

There was a resigned laugh from the other end of the line. "Okay, fine, you got me. I forgot my charger and my phone died. Don't worry that inflated head of yours off about it. But seriously, what's up?"

Tony allowed himself a brief exhale of relief over his phones' capacity. "Well, my jolly green friend, I've been thinking about what we would do in dire times such as these, when we need to contact each other in case of emergency, and I've decided that the best solution is to ensure that we are always in contact." 

Bruce sounded wary. "And how exactly are we going to do that?" 

Tony shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling nerves pressing against his chest, right behind the reactor's casing. "Well, I know that you like your work in India and everything, but here you'd have access to all of the R&D you wanted, and I moved a couple of things around and put away all of the breakables, so -" 

"Are you asking me to move into Stark Tower?" Bruce suddenly interrupted, voice unreadable. 

"Uh, yes?" 

There were a couple of moments of awkward silence, and Tony's heart was thudding in his ears so loudly that he almost missed the next sentence. 

"You Hulk-proofed for me?" 

"Well, yeah. Don't get me wrong, I love the big guy, but he can be a little expensive when he gets angry around the Ming vases." 

There was a genuine chuckle from Bruce at that one, and Tony couldn't help but feel a little pleased. A month ago, Bruce would have flinched away from references like that. 

"Yeah, I'd love to move in." 

Tony grinned. "Really?"

"Yeah, it makes sense for us to stick together in case there's another attack, and I could use the air-conditioning anyways. I'll call Agent Hill and see if she can get me a QuinJet back to the States." 

"Sounds great, rage monster. I'll see you soon." 

__________

He asked Natasha (and by extension, Clint) next. Despite the initial shock of look-who's-a-SHIELD-agent-and-not-a-personal-assistant, Tony liked to think that he and the Widow got along fairly well. They both understood what it was like to have stood on the other side of the line in the sand, to have done (or invented) terrible things with - at best - only flimsy justification. Besides, the woman knew about the absolute best shawarma joints in New York. 

He didn't bother calling her, as Coulson had told him the story about the last time he called her in, and he didn't want Natasha to snap his arm for interrupting her during a mission. Texting, however, seemed like a safe enough form of contact. 

_Built you and loverboy a nice penthouse here at the tower. Even included a boxing ring for you to beat him up in._

She replied surprisingly quickly:

_Sounds good. Clint says he'll shoot you if you ever call him loverboy again._

Three down, two to go. 

Thor was also remarkably easy to persuade. Tony had assumed that he would have duties on Asgard that would keep him from coming back to Earth - he certainly took his time getting here before New York - but the god of thunder was actually quite eager to return to his adopted world. 

"I do miss the camaraderie of our team, Friend Tony," he admitted over the phone (Tony made a mental note to figure out how, exactly, his phone got reception from Asgard), "and it would do me good to see Jane again. I have missed her much these past weeks." 

Silently, Tony patted himself on the back for having the foresight to soundproof all of the bedrooms. 

 

_______

 

He saved Capsicle for last, primarily because he wasn't sure how the super soldier would take the invitation. While they parted after New York on far better terms than they had first met, Tony didn't think they could exactly be considered friends. Still, the rest of the team would be here, and Tony knew that Cap - being the stellar leader he was - would probably like to be with his teammates. If only to make sure that Tony and Bruce didn't accidentally blow them all up. 

He felt awkward calling Cap - did the man even know how to answer a phone? - so he texted him, and hoped that a caring neighbor would help the poor guy answer. 

_Moved a couple things around in the tower so everyone could crash here. Was thinking of making it permanent if Natasha manages not to kill all of us in the first week. I'll even consider renaming the tower "Stark and Sidekicks". You want in?_

It took a couple of hours for the answering text message to come in, and it was written a bit like a formal letter, but Tony was impressed that he had even learned to type. 

_Dear Tony,_

_This sounds like a great idea. Having all of us together will be interesting, but it's important for the team to get to know each other better. Please let me know when you would like me to arrive, and I shall move up at your earliest convenience._

_Sincerely,  
Steve Rogers_

Tony couldn't help the snort of laughter that bubbled up from his chest. It must have been a thing about writing texts (or full on letters, in Steve's case), because he knew for a fact that Cap didn't bother to talk like he was in the 40s during regular conversation. He shot off a quick reply, and allowed himself a moment of triumphant victory. That night, he slept soundly for the first time in months.  
______________

Within a week, the rest of the Avengers had moved into Stark Tower - well, Avengers Tower now. Clint had accidentally called it by the wrong name, and despite Tony's best efforts to point out the name in massive lights on the side of the building, the new title seemed to be sticking. 

It took a couple more weeks for everyone to settle into routines as they adjusted to living together, but they soon worked out a couple of ground rules. No one could enter Clint or Natasha's rooms without knocking first, unless they wanted to risk an arrow or a knife between the eyes. Knocking on Bruce's door at any point was out of the question - the quiet scientist had quickly warmed up to his new roommates, and spent most of his time out in the common area, down in R&D, or training in the gym. When he did retreat to his room, it was usually to calm down and cool off, so interrupting him was strictly off-limits unless they wanted a slightly greener Bruce than normal. 

Thor, for a prince, was extremely low maintenance. All he needed was easy access to coffee and PopTarts, and he was happier than "a Bilgshinpe in a bog". He did, however, have an unnatural tendency to fall asleep on the couch in the middle of the day, which often resulted in a very frustrated Clint trying to eat lunch while ignoring the earth-shattering snores emanating from the other room. 

Clint, of course, was one to talk, because the archer also had a habit of perching in high places and falling asleep with his eyes open, which terrified Tony every time he came into the kitchen looking for a midnight snack. 

Of all of his new roommates, Tony had decided that Steve was definitely the best. The super soldier was polite, clean, and quiet. He was immensely pleased with the drawing room, though he rarely used it - he more often sat around the tower, drawing whatever happened to be in front of him. He cooked for the whole team almost every night, and he let them off of training once a week for movie night. 

So yeah, Tony was pretty pleased with himself. And his idea to have the rest of the team move to Aveng - Stark Tower (damn-it, Clint!). And if this was the first time in his living memory that he felt like he had some kind of a family, well. 

He was just going to keep that one to himself.


	2. Steve is in Denial, Natasha has a Heart, No One is All That Surprised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so overwhelmed by the support I've gotten so far!! Thank you all so much! As a present have another chapter!
> 
> This is mostly a filler-fluff chapter working up to the good stuff. Some mentions of panic and PTSD, but mostly my favorite Steve hangs out in the lab and admires Tony trope. And pizza. I'm hungry. 
> 
> -XO, Obsidian

Of all of the Avengers, Tony was the last one that Steve would have expected to be domestic. Clint and Natasha were comfortable with each other in a way that spoke to an intimacy far beyond that of a mere professional relationship, and slowly but surely began to include the others in their circle of domesticity. Bruce was used to a life on the run, but he settled into life in the Tower with the same fluid ease that he seemed to approach most things. Thor was naturally boisterous and friendly, and often sought out his teammates to spar, or explore some of New York’s “finest hot dog stands”.

But Tony? 

Steve had never found himself having to re-evaluate a person more thoroughly in his entire life. The Tony Stark that he had first met in Germany was loud and obnoxious, cocky, narcissistic and even downright rude. The Tony Stark that he had come to know in New York was brave and smart, and too sassy for his own good. The Tony Stark that he saw in the tower, though, was something completely different. 

This Tony built Bruce a meditation room and put together an art studio for Steve. He made sure that the gym was always in great shape and ordered replacements for all of the training equipment that Clint and Natasha managed to break without complaint (though there was some good-natured hassling that often resulted in Clint holding Tony in a headlock on the living room floor). This Tony had Jarvis monitor the number of PopTarts in the kitchen and warn Thor when their supplies were getting low. He suggested movies and television shows to catch Steve up on pop culture, and showed him how to work the toaster properly, and stayed up late in his workshop to create more aerodynamic arrows for Clint, easily-concealed poison darts for Natasha, and flexible, stretching pants for the Hulk. 

It in no way matched up with everything Steve had ever been told or had seen of Tony Stark, and it drove him absolutely crazy trying to understand why this Tony - the kind, thoughtful Tony with dark circles under his eyes and a genuine smile - had never been seen in the public eye. 

He suspected that the attack on New York had something to do with Tony’s seemingly newfound quietness - he had noticed that Tony appeared to have lost weight over the last few months, that he would occasionally flinch back from loud noises or sudden movements. 

It wasn't until a particularly bad night for Steve that he finally understood just how much Tony was really struggling. Since his defrosting, as Natasha lovingly referred to it, Steve had found that he didn't need as much sleep as he had before he was frozen. Seventy years was a long time to hibernate, after all. Sometimes, lying alone in his room, it just felt too cold, and quiet, and the air around him would thicken until he could barely force out a breath and - 

Well, anyways. He didn’t need much sleep to function at full capacity as it was. 

He knew, however, how much his fellow Avengers enjoyed their beauty rest, so he was surprised to find Tony slumped over the kitchen table, head buried in his arms, staring out at the twinkling lights of the Manhattan skyline at three o’clock in the morning.

"Tony?" he ventured. There was no response from the inventor. His eyelids barely twitched in acknowledgment of his new companion.

“Tony,” he said again, gentler, placing a hand lightly on the older man’s shoulder. Tony jumped, eyes wild, whipping his head around until he found the source of the sudden touch. 

“Woah, woah,” Steve put his other hand on Tony’s free shoulder, steadying the other man and forcing him to look in his eyes. “Tony, it’s just me. It’s Steve. You’re in the Tower.” 

“It is four-thirty in the morning, Sir, on Tuesday, March the twenty-third,” Jarvis added helpfully, so quickly that Steve immediately knew that it wasn’t the first time that the AI had had to remind his creator of where he was. 

Tony sucked in a shuddering breath, and plastered on a dazzling grin so plastic, Steve was surprised that one of those little “Made In China” labels didn’t pop up on his chin. “Howdy Cap. It’s a little late for a midnight snack.” 

Steve frowned. Upon closer inspection, Tony looked utterly exhausted. The rings under his eyes could have been mistaken for bruises, and his eyes were completely bloodshot. Fine tremors ran through his fingers.

"You're exhausted," he said. "Come on, let's get you to bed." 

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Are you propositioning me Cap? Because I'd expect a little more from the pillar of American morality. Dinner at least first, I'm not that easy." 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Not like that, Stark. You need sleep.” 

“I don’t -” Tony halted, and reconsidered his words. "I'm not planning on sleeping tonight. I've got work to do."

“I’m sure it can wait until morning,” Steve said gently. “You’re going to collapse from exhaustion.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Tony said cheekily. He jumped to his feet, wavering slightly, and clapped Steve on the shoulder. “Thanks for the concern, Capsicle.” 

He headed out of the kitchen towards the elevator. Steve hesitated, wanting to reach out and comfort the inventor, but unsure if that kind of thing fit within the bounds of their relationship. If it had been Bucky, or any of the other Howling Commandos, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But the specter of the things that they said to each other during the attack on New York still lingered, even though their relationship had become much more friendly, and Steve wasn’t sure if the gesture would be appreciated. 

“Hey Stark,” Steve called after him, and the inventor turned around. “You can call me Steve, if you want.” 

Tony smiled, a slow, soft thing that curled at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, Steve,” he said. “Then it’s Tony to you.”

Steve grinned back at him. “Good night, Tony.” 

\-------------

Steve wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but things changed between him and Tony after the encounter in the kitchen. A couple days after that, Steve had brought Tony a sandwich in his workshop, certain that the engineer was forgetting to eat as often as he was refusing to sleep. Sure enough, Tony had devoured the sandwich with the single-minded intent of the ravenous, and Steve had ended up spending several more hours in the workshop, following Tony around as the inventor explained some of his in-progress projects. 

It became a frequent occurrence after that for Steve to spend time down in the workshop. Most often, he’d bring his sketch pad and doodle whatever happened to catch his fancy while Tony tinkered and rambled on about his work. After Steve revealed his list of things to learn about the time he’d missed, Tony would select different albums from different decades to listen to, providing backstory about the bands or artists and the history of the era. A couple of times, Steve even managed to drag Tony away from his work to share lunch together, and they’d gossip about whatever fake story People! was running about the Avengers that week. 

It was...nice, actually, getting to know Tony in his natural environment. Steve finally got to meet the man behind the figurehead. Tony Stark, the genius billionaire with a checkered past and the pressures of an international company on his shoulders was a plastic doll, a caricature placed in front of the public for the public's sake.

But Tony? Tony was all enthusiastic (if a little off-key) singing, a surrogate father to his bots, a man who laughed so hard at Steve’s reaction to the Star Wars reveal that he snorted milk out of his nose. He was genuinely fun, and truly seemed to enjoy catching Steve up to the twenty-first century, whether it be teaching him how to use Google or explaining the difference between the Rolling Stones and Rolling Stone.

It also became clear to Steve how much Tony was still struggling with the aftermath of what happened in the Chitauri attack. He recognized the symptoms as ones he’d seen in many men who came back from the war - in his time they called it shell shock, but he now knew that it was an actual condition, called PTSD. Tony still jumped at unexpected noises, still kept an eye on the exits at all times, even when he was working. The one time they both fell asleep during a movie, Steve was woken up by Tony gasping into the dark. 

Steve was sure that Tony would resist any open attempts to help him - pride was one of the many traits Howard seemed to have passed on to his son - so he did little things to help out. If Tony fell silent while working, Steve would start humming under his breath, to give him some background noise. If the bots were about to come up behind Tony with something, Steve would redirect their attention towards himself so they didn't startle him. 

It helped, in its own way, with his own baggage as well. Before the ice, it had always been him and Bucky looking after each other, and he’d missed having that companionship after he woke up. Tony’s mindless rambling and his scolding of his bots, the way he would sometimes look at Steve with concern, as if he could sense those moments where it felt as though the ice was going to crawl back up his spine and refreeze him all over again. In those moments, Tony would abandon whatever he was working on and encourage Dum-E and You to bring Steve increasingly disgusting smoothies from the kitchenette. 

There was something comforting about it. Back in his previous life, he and Bucky had provided each other with the same kind of emotional support. When Steve’s mother had died, Bucky had walked him home, fed him, made sure he was getting to work. When Bucky’s first love had left him high and dry, Steve was the one to get him to shave and get back out there. More than anything, he’d missed that kind of quiet camaraderie. 

The way that Tony’s entire face lit up with a rare smile whenever Steve made progress on some kind of new technology, or the way his back rippled with lean muscle every time he reached for a wrench or a screwdriver had absolutely nothing to do with it. 

Nope, not at all.

“Capsicle.” 

“Hmmm.” 

“Capsicle.” 

“Hmmmm?” 

“Steve!” 

“Yes!” Steve jolted to attention, pencil falling to the side as he flipped his sketchbook closed. 

Tony smirked at him, a smile that pulled up one side of his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes. It was so unlike the smile Steve was used to - the fake, full grin that he so often put on for the press. This one was genuine, and so full of real happiness that something warm filled the inside of Steve’s chest. 

“Steve.” Snapping fingers in front of his face caught his attention, and his eyes were drawn back to the man in front of him. 

Tony grinned at him. “You’re a million miles away today. What’s going on in the upstairs freezer, Capsicle?” 

Steve rolled his eyes affectionately. “I’m just tired, is all. Is there a particular reason you interrupted my sketching or are you just being obnoxious?” 

Tony grasped his hands over his chest in mock offense. “Me, obnoxious? Why Dum-E, can you believe this hersey?” 

Dum-E issued a string of beeps that could be interpreted as a laugh, and Tony shot the bot a betrayed look. “Watch it there, buddy. I still have the power to ship you off to a community college somewhere in Kansas.” 

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Steve said, reaching out a hand to the bot. Dum-E trilled happily, trundling over to Steve and pushing his camera against his outstretched palm. 

Tony redirected his glare towards Steve. “Stop stealing my bots’ hearts, Steve. Now, I was going to ask you if you wanted lunch?” 

Steve checked his watch. “It’s almost five in the afternoon.” 

“Dinner then,” Tony waved a hand. “I’m pretty sure I haven’t eaten since you brought me that sandwich.” 

“Tony, that was yesterday,” Steve groaned disapprovingly. “Come on, let’s get the team together and get some pizza.” 

For a brief moment, Steve thought he detected a hint of disappointment in Tony’s face, but if it was there, it was gone in a flash, leaving only a dazzling smile behind. “Deal. Jarvis, the usual   
order if you please.” 

“Of course Sir. I have notified the other Avengers and they are congregating in the lounge.” 

Tony offered him a hand, hauling Steve to his feet. Steve pointedly did not notice the feel of Tony’s warm, calloused hand in his, or the flex of his bicep as he pulled the heavier man up. 

“So,” he said, more to distract himself than anything else, “what exactly is so important that it’s kept you from eating for over a day?”

Tony’s face lit up, and he began babbling on about some lightweight something or other that’s going to make the QuinJets more aerodynamic. Steve smiled and tuned most of it out, allowing his mind to be lulled by Tony’s chatter.

“Whoever ordered pizza is my new favorite person,” Clint announced as they exited the elevator into the lounge. “Behind the delivery guy, at least.”

Tony flashed him a grin. “Yeah, right BirdBrain. I was already your favorite.” 

Clint threw a pepperoni at his forehead with unerring accuracy. “Come join us. I'm teaching Thor how to play Super Smash Bros. I might even let you win a round or two if I’m feeling generous.”

“Oh you are on.” Tony vaulted over the back of the couch to grab a controller, and Steve chuckled, stacking half a dozen slices of pizza - white with broccoli and bacon, his favorite - and settled in to watch the battle unfold. 

Several hours and three smashed Wii controllers later, the Avengers had settled in for a movie and beer, Rocky II playing in the background while most of them slumbered, piled together on the couch. Steve leaned in the doorway to the kitchen, watching contentedly from afar as Tony drooled onto Bruce’s shoulder. 

“So, when are you going to tell him?” 

Steve startled at Natasha’s voice next to him. He glanced down to see her smiling softly at him, and wondered when exactly she had moved from her spot on the couch. He decided he didn’t want to know the answer - certain mysteries surrounding the so called “Super-Spy twins” were better left unsolved.

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

“I see the way you look at him,” she said. “It’s the same way I look at Clint sometimes, when he’s not being a birdbrain.” 

Steve snorted. “So, not all that often then?” 

He glanced back over at Tony - the way that his hair, just a shade too long and in need of a trim, fell into his eyes. How when he was asleep, the lines of worry and sadness just melted away, leaving him looking years younger. 

“Are you and Clint…?” He hesitated, knowing that Natasha’s personal life was a sensitive subject for her, but he had wondered ever since he’d seen them together that first time, in the med room on the Helicarrier. 

She nodded. “In every way that counts, at least. I used to think love was for children, you know. A fantasy that we told them to help them fall asleep at night.” 

 

“And now?” Steve asked. 

“Now, I know that it doesn’t have to be anything other than what you want it to be.”

Steve nodded absentmindedly as he processed her words. Suddenly, their full meaning hit him, and he glanced in surprise between Natasha and Tony. 

She smirked. “Figured it out, have you?” 

“I’m in love with Tony Stark,” Steve breathed, amazed. 

Natasha laughed. “So you are. Again, when are you going to tell him?” 

Steve frowned, a sinking feeling settling into his gut. “I have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, white pizza with broccoli and bacon is delicious. Don't judge me.


	3. Steve Rogers Accidentally Builds a Robot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, I bring you another chapter on this wonderful Wednesday! My mom was up this weekend to visit so it took a bit longer. 
> 
> Warning: Steve deals with angsty internalized homophobia this chapter.

“Capsicle.” 

“Yes, Tony?” 

“What are you doing?” 

Steve glanced up at the genius, blinking blearily. “I, uh, think I’m trying to make a toy for Dum-E?” 

The bot in question chirped in agreement, trundling over to his maker and latching onto Tony’s shirt, tugging him forward. Laughing, Tony followed his bot over to the workbench, where Steve was hunched over a tangle of wires and spare parts. 

“And what, exactly, are you trying to make?” Tony asked curiously, eying the pile of scrap metal. 

Steve shrugged helplessly. “Honestly, I’ve just been following Dum-E’s instructions. He’s been pointing and I’ve been putting things where he tells me to.” 

There was silence from the man next to him, and Steve glanced up worriedly. To his surprise, he saw the inventor smiling fondly down at him and the bot, his eyes suspiciously misty. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, concerned. 

Tony rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah, of course, I just…” he trailed off, patting Dum-E’s strut. “I built Dum-E in a drunken, angry haze when I was fifteen. He’s not exactly a functional machine, hardly useful at all and not really that exciting. I’m...most people don’t really interact with him.” 

Steve grinned widely. “Well, I do. Dum-E and I are best friends, aren’t we bud?” 

Dum-E trilled happily, waving his claw up and down. Tony smiled back at him, then reached for the small device. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve made here.”

He studies the object intently for a moment, turning it over in his hands. “Um, Steve?” 

“Yeah?” 

Tony connects a wire, and the device whirs to life. “Did you mean to build a functional bot?” 

“What?” Steve plucks the device from Tony’s hand. Sure enough, it is blinking at him with two little LED eyes, tiny wheels he’d put in at Dum-E’s insistence revving as it tried to move. 

“Who ever said Captain America would have a hard time adjusting to the twenty-first century?” Tony joked. Steve placed the toy on the ground and it zoomed off, Dum-E chasing after it. 

Tony laughed, and Steve glanced up at the other man. His eyes were creased with smile lines - so different from the usual tension there - and one side of his nose was scrunched up adorably. 

Steve’s heart soared at knowing he had some small part in putting that smile on Tony’s face, then immediately swooped into his stomach, which retaliated with a wave of cold nausea. 

He stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the inventor in his haste. Tony looked at him in confusion, and he forced a smile. “Sorry, I have to go. Forgot I had training with Clint scheduled.” 

Tony’s face fell so imperceptibly that someone less attuned to his features wouldn’t have noticed, adding guilt to the pool of nausea gathering in Steve’s gut. “Of course. Thanks for spending time with Dum-E, Steve.” 

Steve nodded, exiting the lab as quickly as he could while still maintaining a semblance of dignity. Once he’d made his escape, he made his way up to the training room to sort out his head. 

Hanging a sandbag and wrapping his hands steadied his stomach somewhat, but he still felt cold and guilt ridden as he began his usual routine. As his muscle memory took over, he allowed his brain to drift to the one subject that had consumed it entirely since his conversation with Natasha - Tony. 

He could accept fairly easily that he had romantic feelings for Tony. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d felt something for another man, after all, and he knew that now, same-sex relationships were accepted as a societal norm. But while he no longer feared legal persecution for his feelings, he feared another form of judgement just as much. 

He hadn’t had any delusions, back when Erskine had offered him the serum, of what he would become if the experiment worked. He was a soldier, yes, and a man, but before that, he was Captain America - an icon and a symbol, whether he wanted it or not. 

During the war, it had been easy to know what that symbol was supposed to be. He was a symbol of American freedom, of the compassion and righteousness that stood against the hatred and fear mongering of the Nazi party. 

Now, he wasn’t so sure. If he represented American freedom, which kind of freedom was he supposed to represent? He believed that every person had the right to be with the person they loved, but he couldn’t, as a Catholic, ask others to deny the beliefs of their faith. The divide this time was internal, and he felt it as acutely as every blow he’d taken during the war.

He let out a particularly vicious punch, catching the bag before it swung back into his face. If he had just been Steve Rogers, there wouldn’t be a problem. The only people he’d have to worry about coming out to were his friends, and he was fairly confident that they would be supportive of him. As Captain America, he’d have to come out to the whole country. People’s opinions of him would change. People would begin to actively hate him. Parents would point to him and tell their children that he was what happened when you sinned. Could he be selfish enough to tarnish the reputation of a universal symbol of hope? Was his duty to his country greater than that to himself?

He wanted to be a good man, as he had promised Dr. Erskine. He just wasn’t sure anymore if that meant staying true to his public image, or his private desires. Not when they had divulged so far from each other. 

Steve let out an irritated huff and swung at the bag hard enough to pull the hook out of the ceiling. The metal wrenched free with a thud and the crack of drywall, as a piece of plaster shattered onto the gym floor. 

Steve doubled over, hands on his knees, swearing under his breath. 

“If I may interject, Sir,” Jarvis said suddenly from the ceiling. “Your vitals indicate that you are in extreme emotional distress. Might I suggest notifying one of the other Avengers?” 

Steve drew in a breath. “No, thank you Jarvis, that’s okay.” 

“As you say, Sir.” 

Steve looked up at the damaged plaster. Cracks webbed out from the center of destruction, and he traced their paths as he got his breathing under control. 

“Tony’s going to have a fit if he has to keep paying to repair his tower,” Bruce commented wryly from the doorway. Steve whirled around to face his teammate, who glanced back at him with his eyebrows raised. 

“Is there anything you want to talk about? I’m assuming the sandbag didn’t offend you.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “No, I just….” 

Bruce looked at him curiously. 

Steve sighed. “Have you ever felt like the way that people see you is different from the way you feel about yourself?” 

Bruce snorted. “You’re joking, right? That’s basically my entire origin story.” 

Steve flushed. “Erm, right.” 

Bruce flashed a smile at him. “It’s okay. I know what you’re talking about. When I first became the Hulk, everyone thought I was a monster. And I believed it.” 

“So how’d you overcome it?” Steve asked, voice edging on desperate. Bruce shrugged. 

 

“I haven’t, not entirely. I’ve learned to control the Hulk, for the most part. Learned how to forgive myself for the things that I’ve done. But that doesn’t mean that I’m always happy with my decisions. It doesn’t mean that I’m not afraid of what I could do.”

“Sometimes I feel like people will dismiss my feelings,” Steve admitted. “Because they don’t coincide with what they’ve come to expect of me as Captain America.” 

Bruce nodded in understanding. “You want to feel validated. I wanted that too. Tony taking me in, making me feel like less of a monster, that helped. But not everyone is going to react that way. If I wait around for every single person on Earth to accept me for who I am, I’d never find peace.” 

Steve sagged, exhausted. He knew, objectively, that what Bruce was saying made sense. But before he was the Hulk, he was just a scientist. 

Bruce came over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Look, if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. But you have to decide for yourself whether your own happiness matters more than what other people think of you.” 

Steve grinned at him. “Thanks, Bruce.” 

“Anytime, Cap.” 

\------------

Steve poked his head around the doorframe of the lab. “Tony?” 

“Master Stark is currently at Stark Industries, attending a board meeting,” Jarvis supplied helpfully. “Ms. Potts threatened portions of his anatomy that he would rather remained intact.” 

Chortling, Steve went over to the bots’ charging station, tapping Dum-E, U and Butterfingers on their struts as he went. The bots all whirled to life with excited chirps, and he smiled as he greeted them all. 

“When do you think he’ll be back?” Steve asked, absentmindedly scratching Butterfingers’ arm. 

“That is unclear at the moment, I’m afraid. Ms. Potts has a variety of unpleasant administrative tasks planned for Master Stark.” 

Steve snickered, though he couldn’t help but feel somewhat sympathetic for the poor inventor. Pepper Potts was indeed a force of her own - a worthy peer of Peggy, if ever he saw one. 

Wandering over towards the table where he’d built Dum-E’s toy earlier, Steve brushed his hands along some of Tony’s holographic screens, accidentally bringing one to life. Curious, Steve peered closer at the screen. “Jarvis, is this something I can look at?”

“Indeed Sir. Any classified information would not be so easily accessible. Although I am afraid the contents of that particular document are rather boring.” 

Steve looked through the document, identifying it as a to-do list from Tony’s “Shit to Get Done” title. Most of the items were fairly bland - sign SI papers, repair the suit, review R&D designs. Scrolling down, the sight of his own name made him stop. 

_Steve - present Smithsonian w/higher offer re original shield_

Steve sat back, stunned. He had mentioned a couple of months ago that it felt weird to know that his first shield, from the war, was sitting unused in a vault in the Smithsonian, only to be trotted out during the annual Captain America display around the Fourth of July. Even if he hadn’t had a sentimental attachment to the shield, he grew up poor in the forties - even now, with enough backpay to keep him living comfortably for the rest of his forseeable life, and a billionaire as a best friend, it just felt wasteful for Tony to have to dig up the vibranium to make a new shield. However, when he had asked the museum for the shield back, the curator had talked around him about “national heritage” and a “gift to the country” until he couldn’t remember what he had been asking in the first place. 

He hadn’t even realized Tony was listening to his complaint - at the time, he’d been several hours deep into an argument with Bruce over some obscure point of quantum physics. But clearly the genius had heard, and was trying to get the shield back for him. 

Steve swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. 

This was another thing that he couldn’t come to terms with about his feelings. He knew Tony reveled in his notoriety, practically wore it like a suit of armor (or an Ironman suit). But since New York, he had softened around the edges, keeping out of the tabloids and away from the press in general unless it was Avengers or Stark Industries related business. Some might even say he was settling down. 

He knew how hard it had been for Tony to lose Pepper, how hard he’d been trying to develop and maintain real relationships. Tony deserved someone who could make him truly happy, someone he could just be with, without having to worry about the national fallout. 

He couldn’t ask Tony to suffer through the conflict that his coming out was sure to bring, couldn’t ask him to have his name be raked through mud, to be accused of sullying the “pure” Captain America with his salacious ways. 

Dum-E beeped inquisitively at his shoulder, and Steve smiled at the bot. “Hey bud. Steve’s not quite in the mood to play right now.” 

The robot trilled sadly, dropping the toy that he’d built earlier into his hand. Steve squeezed the metal hard enough for it to creak ominously. 

He couldn’t have this. No matter how much he wanted it, this was just something he’d never have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot of the thought processes I went through trying to come out. It's not an easy thing to do when there are certain expectations people have of you. 
> 
> See you again probably this weekend!


	4. Tony is Positive that Most Things Can be Blamed on Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony thinks too much, Pepper is a sweetheart, and Thor has finally learned some pop culture references. All in a day's work for the Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! Sorry I've been MIA, I've been holed up studying for a midterm that was scheduled for the last week of class (???? College logic????). All I want right now is a nap and some Jello. Unfortunately I am unlikely to get either anytime soon. 
> 
> Very brief mentions of panic attacks and allusions to Howard's general suckiness this chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> -XO, Obsidian

Tony’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he slipped the thin device out as subtly as possible, careful not to draw Pepper’s keen gaze from across the boardroom. 

One new message from: Captain Capsicle 

Grinning, Tony swiped the unlock button and pulled up his messages. 

Captain Capsicle: _Clint told me to send you this: (banana emoji)(eggplant emoji)(winking face emoji)_

Tony felt his face flush -it was pathetic, how this one man made him feel like a teenager again - and quickly sent off a reply. 

Genius Billionaire: _Tell Clint I didn’t realize he was so kinky_

Captain Capsicle: _OH MY GOODNESS_

Captain Capsicle: _TONY I AM SO SORRY I DIDN’T REALIZE_

Captain Capsicle: _(embarrassed monkey emoji)_

Tony couldn’t help the laugh that escaped at that, and Pepper turned her head sharply, well attuned to the many noises of Tony Stark. She fixed him with a stern glare, and he smiled back apologetically, before sending one more text and putting his phone back in his pocket. 

Genius Billionaire: _Don’t worry your freezer about it, Capsicle. Just don’t let Clint show you Urban Dictionary (until I get home at least)_

Captain Capsicle: _(smiling face emoji)_

Tony shook his head, trying to focus on the board member who’d been droning on for half an hour now - some old bat who’d been around since Howard’s day, who he’d never been able to figure out how to get rid of. 

However, as hard as he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to the Tower, wondering what his teammates - dare he even say friends? Family? - were up to. It was about ten in the morning, which means Clint and Natasha were probably just coming back from whatever top-secret meetings they attended at SHIELD most days (“top secret” being a fairly loose term, as he’d long ago had Jarvis hack the security footage of those meetings, and they mostly consisted of Fury bitching about Congress or the World Security Council while Natasha made veiled death threats and Clint shot rubberbands at a very tense Maria Hill). 

Natasha would probably coax Bruce out of the lab with promises of tea and a sandwich, and Clint would probably goad Thor into some kind of contest, be it in the boxing ring or on the Wii. Steve, long home from his morning marathon (and Tony really wished he could say that he was joking about that), would probably offer to make everyone lunch, and end up whipping up a three course meal complete with perfectly balanced protein-starch-vegetable ratios. Tony had yet to solve the mystery of how Steve Rogers, who’d grown up dirt poor in Brooklyn, then spent his time running around the European countryside, had somehow had time to learn to cook like a Michelin-star chef. Every time he asked, Steve merely winked and said something about everyone needing their secrets. 

It both comforted him and alarmed him to realize that he not only knew the schedules these people followed, but that if he returned to the Tower right now, they’d accept him into their day as if he belonged there. As if he was part of their family. 

Tony wasn’t used to knowing other people's’ schedules. Even when he and Pepper were dating, he relied on Jarvis to inform him of where she was and what she was doing. This was a strange sort of intimacy he’d developed with the team. The kind of intimacy he’d expected he could have had with his parents, had they been different people. 

“Tony,” Pepper’s slender fingers snapped in front of his face, and he startled to attention. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

She sighed, clearly restraining the ever present desire to brain him with one of her designer heels. “The meeting ended ten minutes ago, Tony. You’ve been sitting here staring into space, not responding to anything. I thought you promised you would sleep more.” 

“I have been,” Tony responded automatically, conveniently forgetting the fifty-six hour long inventing binge he had indulged in just a few days ago. “I’m just thinking.” 

That softened Pepper’s smile, and she extended a hand to help him out of his chair. “When are you not? Anything in particular?” 

Tony shrugged, feeling unusually untalkative. “Lunch, mostly.” 

Pepper laughed lightly, and Tony felt something in his chest tighten. No matter that he’d come to terms long ago with their inability to be anything but friends - he would always love her, and to say that he missed hearing that laugh every day would be a lie. 

She moved closer, cupping his cheek. “They are taking care of you, right?” 

Caught off guard, Tony could only nod. “Yes, of course.” 

“Good,” she said. “He promised me he would.” 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the “he” Pepper was referring to was. It could only be Steve - Steve Rogers, the man out of time, who had so quickly captured his heart that Tony hadn’t realized he was in love with until it was too late for him to drink himself out of it. 

He hadn’t expected to like Steve. Even without the influence of Loki’s scepter, he had thought that Steve would be a representation of everything he despised - a time when men like his father could get away with cruelty under the guise of success. A less advanced, less understanding time. He’d expected Steve to be morally rigid, with no room for failures. No space for failures like him. 

He’d miscalculated epically. And he wasn’t exactly used to being this wrong. 

He, Tony Stark, was in love with Steve Rogers. 

Aside from the initial and terrifying oh my God I’m in love, run from the idea of commitment reaction, this posed a unique set of dilemmas that he had yet to solve. Steve was his best friend, and he was inarguably Steve’s best friend, in this century at least. Tony was the person Steve came to when he had a question about technology, or culture, or one of Clint’s obscure (and usually inappropriate) references. Steve had been the only person, aside from Pepper, to see Tony in the throes of a panic attack, and talk him through the crying and screaming without judgement. Tony was the person Steve opened up to, who he talked to about the Howling Commandos, Bucky, and…. Peggy. 

And that was the other part of the problem - Steve was about as ramrod straight as a flagpole, and twice as virtuous as the American flag. Tony knew that he accepted new societal norms fairly easily, and he’d barely batted an eye when Tony told him he was bisexual. But Steve didn’t seem to be the kind of person to swing his way, even if Tony wasn’t already a notorious playboy. 

So, not only had Tony gone and made the mistake of falling in love, he’d managed to fall in love with the most unattainable person in the world. Sometimes, he questioned the validity of his genius status. 

Tony managed a lopsided grin for Pepper’s sake. “They’re doing what they can. Jarvis told them my favorite type of pizza, so there are plenty of food-related bribes.” 

His Avengers alarm went off just then, saving him from any more scrutiny from Pepper’s uncannily observant gaze. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he smiled at Cap’s face on the screen before answering the call. 

“Ironman.” 

“Tony,” Steve greeted him. “We’ve got a problem down on Lexington. How soon can you get there?” 

“Be there in half a minute, my friend,” Tony said, wincing at the ‘friend’. Shutting the phone off, he smiled apologetically at Pepper. “Hate to discuss and dash, but there’s a city to be saved.” 

She nodded understandingly, the crease between her eyebrows that always meant I’m worried about Tony suddenly deepening. “Be safe.” 

He nodded, but made no promises. He couldn’t lie to Pepper any more than he already had. 

\------

“So, what’s on the monster menu today?” Tony asked as he swooped down over Lexington. 

“Goo goblins,” Clint answered into his earpiece, sounding way too cheerful for someone who shot evil creatures for a living. “Bruce is at SHIELD trying to figure out the composition and where they came from right now.” 

Tony landed next to Thor, who had gathered with the rest of the team near the entrance to Gramercy Park. “Any particular reason we’re not rushing in to smash them to bits?” 

Steve shifted, looking pained under the cowl. “Right now they’re not really doing anything. We evacuated civilians for the next couple of blocks, but all they’ve done so far is lick a couple of lightposts and turn over some garbage cans.” 

Tony flipped up the visor to stare at the little green creatures, who were scrambling all over the street like over-excited puppies. They looking something like a cross between cats and salamanders, with sharp, upturned ears and long tails. Every once and a while, one of them would flick out it’s tongue, knocking over signs and cafe chairs and the occasional dumpster. 

“Interesting,” Tony said. “If I had a little time to study up on biochemistry -” 

“You are not experimenting on the mysterious goo creatures, Tony,” Natasha said, exasperated. He got the sense that Clint had suggested something similar just before he got there. 

“Well if we’re not going to fight them, and we’re not going to see if they taste as much like Jell-O as they look like Jell-O, then why exactly am I here?” Tony asked. 

“Containment,” Steve answered. “Fury doesn’t want them to spread out throughout the city.” 

“Aha,” Tony said. “I knew, somehow, that this was Fury’s fault. I hope he knows that I charge by the minute for consulting time.” 

“That was only relevant when you were a consultant, Tony,” Steve said. “Now that you’re a full-time Avenger, you get paid the same as the rest of us.” 

“I see how it is,” Tony narrowed his eyes at Natasha. “I should have never bribed you into rescinding your original evaluation.” 

She flashed him an evil grin.

Suddenly, a screech rang out from down the street. One of the goblins reared up on its back legs, retractable claws releasing from its front limbs, and started slashing up a CVS storefront. Immediately, his fellow goo-monsters reacted, claws coming out and the sounds of screeching metal filling the street. 

Tony brought the visor down, bringing up his repulsors as he did. “What the hell just happened?” 

“One of our junior agents got too close trying to get radiation readings,” Fury’s voice crackled to life over the earpiece. “They didn’t like that.” 

“And third thing I can find a way to blame on Fury today,” Tony muttered. 

“Focus, Ironman,” Steve said, now in full on Captain America mode. “Thor, you’re air support. Make sure these things don’t get any farther downtown. Clint, go with Thor and pick off any stragglers from above.” 

The two men nodded, Thor grasping Clint under the shoulders and taking off, presumably to drop the archer onto a roof somewhere. 

“Ironman, Widow, you’re with me. Let’s focus on declawing them and minimizing damage.” 

“Once more into the fray,” Tony quipped, leaping forward into action. 

For the first couple of minutes, everything went perfectly - the creatures were aggressive, but stupid, and tended to move in a pack, which made it easy to take a lot of them out at once. The goo was tough, but not impermeable. A little heat melted them straight away, and Clint pulled out some of his explosive arrows (courtesy of Tony, of course) to help Tony and Thor with the live ammo. 

Then, the creatures got smart. They retreated, circling up to create a perimeter of defense. Any time Tony, Steve, or Natasha tried to get close, they almost lost an arm. And all of a sudden, the puddles of melted goo started quivering ominously. 

“Ironman,” Cap said over the comms. “What’s going on?” 

Tony watched in morbid fascination as the goo began to shift and retake form, mutilated versions of the creatures rising from the muck like phoenixes from ash. “I believe, dear Captain, that we are witnessing regeneration.” 

“The goo is some kind of bio-renewable polymer,” Bruce’s voice (still calm, thank goodness) came over the line. “You’re going to have to incinerate the creatures, not just melt them. As long as there are living cells, they’ll regenerate.” 

Natasha ducked a stray swipe, finding herself embattled between monsters on two fronts. “Any suggestions?” 

“Thor!” Tony called. “Remember that scene from the fourth Harry Potter movie between Harry and Voldemort?” 

“Aye,” the god of thunder boomed. “Have our friends retreat to a safe distance!” 

“Cap, Natasha, Clint, round the goblins up as best you can,” Tony ordered. “Thor and I want to try something.” 

Steve nodded, swooping in to help Natasha fend off one of the creatures, then grabbing her around the waist and tossing her up and over the crowd of goblins. She landed gracefully on the awning of a cafe, aiming her Widow’s bites at their feet, keeping them corralled. Steve grasped Tony’s arm briefly, eyes shining on Tony’s screen. 

“Be careful, Shellhead.” 

Tony was incredibly grateful for the helmet in that moment, for shielding the blush that crept up his cheeks at the compliment. “Can do, Winghead. Now get back.” 

Steve easily sliced his way through a crowd of goblins, hunkering down behind the side of a building. 

“Now, Thor!” Tony shouted. The god aimed Mjolnir at the center of the group of goblins and released a bolt of lightning, just as Tony fired his repulsors at the same spot. The two beams of energy met in the middle, and Tony squinted as the intensity of the light grew to nearly unbearable brightness. Suddenly, the ball of energy exploded, sending the monsters - and Tony - tumbling through the street. 

Tony landed hard on his back and started rolling, numerous warnings popping up on his screens as the suit tried to accommodate to the sudden force. He came to a screeching, painful stop, and gasped, trying to catch his breath. 

“Tony!” Steve shouted, running out from his hiding spot to lean over the other man. Tony blinked up in confusion at him, and almost blurted out a quip about being rescued by an angel. Luckily, his mind snapped back to awareness just in time, and he managed to keep quiet. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, helping him to his feet. 

Tony shook the ringing out of his ears. “Dandy, Cap. How’s the gelatinous dessert looking?” 

“Thoroughly fried,” Steve confirmed. “Nice work, Tony.”  
Tony flushed at the praise, pulling off the visor to grin at his teammate.

For just a moment, as Steve pulled the cowl off, his tousled blonde hair glinted in the sunlight, a smear of ash on his cheek. His blue eyes connected with Tony’s and Tony swore he saw something hidden in them. He stepped forward, wanting to be closer, but then Steve turned to congratulate Thor on a fight well fought, and the moment was lost. Tony’s heart sank to the concrete as he remembered the absolute truth of his situation.

He couldn’t have this. No matter how much he wanted it, this was just something he’d never have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I wish I could tell you that these two beautiful idiots are going to get their heads out of their asses soon but it will get worse before it gets better. 
> 
> Also ten points to whoever catches the Hamilton reference.


	5. Natasha Romanov is Surrounded by Incompetent Idiots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha can see that Tony and Steve are pining for each other. She can also see that solving this particular problem is going to be more than a one man job, so she calls in reinforcements. 
> 
> Unfortunately, the reinforcements are about as helpful as a bag of bricks. Which she would cheerfully murder them all with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaacckkk! Did you expect me back two days after my last update? I didn't! Gotta love procrastinating on all of my real life adult responsibilities (yes, finals, I see you). 
> 
> Why did I write this chapter? Honestly, I don't know. I've been having a shitty week and needed to write some bumbling, adorable idiots. Also the other Avengers deserved a shoutout. So, here is 3K words of honestly I don't even know what.
> 
> Also I am in camp "Clint Barton is deaf but still badass." 
> 
> Also also side note I am literally wowed at the support I've been getting for my rambling headcanon drabbles, thank you all so much, it means a lot!!
> 
> -XO, Obsidian

Natasha Romanov was a very, very patient person. She’d once sat in the same position for sixteen hours straight while staking out a target, not once moving to eat or go to the bathroom. She spent a year and a half undercover, unable to see or hear from Clint, to get close to a mark. Hell, she’d even stood in line for the lottery for Hamilton tickets the other week, and had managed not to maim anyone, not even a little bit. 

So, Natasha knew how to bide her time, and wait for results. However, if her idiotic teammates didn’t get their heads out of their asses and start dating sometime soon, someone was going to end up stabbed. 

And Fury might not even write her up for it. 

They were watching a movie - Tangled, one of her favorites. Of course, she’d die before admitting that to the team, but Clint had suggested it, taking the ribbing from the others like a champ, sending her a covert smile. She had nodded back, making a mental note to thank him thoroughly later tonight. 

Team movie nights were always a fairly intimate event - after the number of times they’d all saved each other, or seen each other naked (though she wasn’t sure Bruce had recovered from the trauma of the time he’d caught Clint and Natasha ‘cooking’ in the communal kitchen), no one here was opposed to a little bit of cuddling. Thor was laid out along the chaise end of the sofa, Natasha’s feet in his lap and her head resting against Clint’s shoulders. Bruce was sprawled on the floor in front of them, his back against Clint’s calves. Tony was curled up in a chair next to Thor, their feet intertwining on the end of the couch, and Steve was next to Bruce, his feet resting on the doctor’s stomach. 

Unfortunately for everyone else in the room, Steve and Tony had somehow ended up across the couch from each other. This meant that every few seconds, one of them would cast longing, furtive glances at the other, before heaving a quiet sigh and turning their attention back to the movie. It had gotten to the point where Natasha was able to time it, counting down the seconds until the next time Tony or Steve turned puppy dog eyes on the object of their desire. 

It was disgustingly cute, but also incredibly absurd, and Natasha had had just about enough. 

She tapped Clint on the shoulder to get his attention, then signed up at him. 

_We have to find a way to get these two idiots together._

Clint snorted. 

_Agreed. Wanna place bets on it? Bet I can do it in less than twelve hours._

Natasha rolled her eyes. _Unlikely. Tony’s stubborn as a mule and Steve is twice as bad. We’re going to need help from the others._

“If you two are signing insults again I’m going to learn ASL just so I can insult you right back,” Tony piped up from his blanket nest. 

Natasha fixed him with a glare (not that she meant it, but it was fun to watch him cower), and he shrank back. “Maybe we just don’t want your input, Stark.” 

He clasped a hand over his heart. “You wound me, Natasha. Everyone wants my input. That’s why I charge such exorbitant consulting fees.” 

“Funny,” Clint said. “I just thought you liked hearing yourself talk.” 

Tony poked his tongue out at the archer. “Fuck you too Clint.” 

“Perhaps we should focus on trading insults after the movie,” Bruce suggested lightly, and everyone immediately shut up. No one wanted a repeat of the fiasco that resulted when someone (read, Tony) tried to interrupt him while he was watching Fast and Furious. 

Clint looked down at Natasha. _Tomorrow?_

She nodded. Tomorrow, they would begin to plan how to get their resident idiots together. 

\-------------------------

Natasha sidled up to Bruce at the counter. The scientist was still sleep-ruffled, his hair sticking up in all different directions. He clutched a mug of coffee in his hands, and was staring rather listlessly as he watched Clint fry bacon at the stove.

“I hope there’s a good reason for this covert morning meeting,” he grumbled. “I was up until three in the morning running an experiment.”

“Oh, there is,” she promised. “As soon as Thor gets here, we can discuss.” 

As if on cue, Thor strolled into the kitchen, hair perfectly done and sporting an Adventure Time tshirt that Natasha was fairly certain Darcy had given to him.

“Friends,” Thor greeted them. “To what do I owe the pleasure of our meeting this fine morning?”

“And where are Steve and Tony?” Bruce asked, finally waking up some.

“They’re the reason we’re here,” Clint answered, sliding bacon onto Thor’s plate and receiving a beam of thanks. “We need to get them doing the horizontal mambo.” 

Bruce sat up straighter. “Oh thank God. I thought I was the only one who’d noticed the pining.” 

Thor frowned, looking confused. “Are the Man of Iron and our valiant Captain not yet courting? Their behavior has led me to believe that they were already together, merely keeping it to themselves.”

Natasha shook her head. “They definitely aren't. I talked to Steve about it briefly, but he didn't seem in all that big of a hurry to tell Tony how he feels. And if he doesn’t, Tony definitely never will.”

The others nodded in agreement, all of them experienced with the temperaments of their teammates. 

“It can’t be that hard,” Bruce mused. “Tony may be stubborn, but he’s not stupid. If we play this right, we can probably get them together by the end of the week.” 

Clint pointed his spatula at Bruce. “Now that is a bet I am willing to take.” 

\-------------------

Thor Odinson, prince of Asgard, was used to taking a hands-on approach to his problems. He’d never quite mastered the tact and slyness that his brother used so effectively. He was, however, not a complete idiot, and knew that merely mashing the two mens’ heads together and shouting “Kiss!” would probably not be the best approach. 

However, forcing one of them to come to the other’s rescue might just work. Maybe. 

Thor was well aware that Steve spent most of his time either running or working out in the gym - it was a problem they’d all discussed, trying to figure out how to get him out of the Tower more - but now, it would serve him well. 

“Man of Iron,” Thor greeted Tony as he walked into the living room later that day. “I was thinking we ought to spar - hand to hand, of course, but it would do you well to be able to defend yourself out of the suit.” 

Tony, who was wrapped up in a sweatshirt and had planned on going to the lab and not leaving until one of his disapproving teammates dragged him out, blinked owlishly. “Uh, I can hold my own. I box with Happy sometimes.” 

Thor shook his head. “As worthy of an opponent as I am sure Happy is, it would do you well to work with someone who has trained since birth to fight.” 

Tony shrugged. “Why the hell not? Want to go a round right now, Point Break?”

Thor allowed himself one sly smile. 

Sure enough, Steve was in the gym when they arrived, studiously beating a punching bag to a pulp. He waved at them when they walked in, but immediately resumed his workout. Thor frowned. If he was distracted, the plan might not work….

Tony clapped him on the back. “To the mat, my friend.” 

They squared up against each other, Tony crouching down into a defensive position, and Thor lunged forward, swiping at him. Tony sidestepped, but just in the nick of time.

“Whoa there Point Break,” Tony exclaimed, ducking a second swing. “Easy on the squishy human!” 

Thor smirked. “Can't take the challenge, Stark?” 

Tony’s eyes glittered with determination. “Oh, you are on.”

They went at each other for a while, more evenly matched than Thor would have expected. Tony was a smart fighter, and his quick moves made up for what he lacked in brute force. Thor almost forgot his goal, he was so immersed in the fight. 

Eventually though, Tony tired, and Thor saw his opportunity to strike. If he could pin Tony, not only would Steve be worried, but maybe he’d be jealous enough to make a move….

Busy plotting, Thor moved too quickly, catching the smaller man by surprise and sending him to the ground. Tony cried out as he landed hard on his wrist, immediately curling in around the offending limb.

Steve was across the room before Thor could so much as blink, crouching down next to their injured teammate, and Thor’s guilt at hurting his friend evaporated as he watched Steve cradle the inventor’s wrist gently. The sense of triumph disappeared as Steve muttered something about calling Bruce, and moved back across the room to call him up on the communications panel, leaving Thor to apologize to Tony and help him to his feet. Thor sighed, watching Tony stare at Steve as he babbled to Bruce, pain forgotten in favor of a crestfallen expression.

Perhaps the face mashing would have been more effective after all.

\---------

Bruce Banner knew that he was smarter than almost anyone he had ever encountered, Tony excluded. He saw things other people didn't, threads in the world that he could examine, unravel, if only he didn't know what happened when the string snapped. And he could see how much Steve and Tony cared about each other, maybe even loved each other.

So if he could do something that could make two of his only friends happy, he was damn well going to do it.

The only problem was, he wasn't exactly creative. He’d googled how to set friends up, with limited success. Most of the tips involved actually revealing the plan to the potential lovebirds, which was completely counterproductive - Natasha had made it very clear that if either Steve or Tony caught on, they’d avoid each other even harder than they were currently. 

So, he had to be creative and secretive. Two things that weren’t necessarily in his purview. 

He was, however, a human being, and well aware of the science of attraction. So his plan involved figuring out a way to get the two men shirtless in each other’s company. 

Someday, he hoped Tony would appreciate everything that he did for him. 

He’d called Tony to his lab a couple of hours ago to get some feedback on a medicine that he was developing. Ostensibly, it was meant to reduce the discomfort that accompanied his transformation from the Hulk back into his normal body - his bones could only take so much stress, after all - and he wanted Tony’s opinion on some of the chemical structures. For an engineer, Tony knew a hell of a lot about biochemistry. 

“Hey Bruce!” Steve called out as he slipped into the lab. “You wanted to grab lunch?” 

Tony’s head whipped up, and he looked at Bruce with what he’d swear were eyes of betrayal. 

“Yeah, do you mind coming here for a second?” Bruce responded. “I need someone to hold this beaker steady while Tony and I add the reagents.” 

“Sure,” Steve agreed readily, giving Tony a dopey grin. Tony blushed, focusing his attention back on the bottle of chemicals he was holding in his unbound hand - Thor’s attempt at matchmaking had left him with a sprained wrist. Bruce rolled his eyes, then turned to switch out the bottles he had. 

“Ready, Tony?” he asked. 

“Let’s do it, science bro,” Tony said. Carefully, they poured the chemicals into the beaker Steve was holding. If this worked….

Suddenly, the mixture bubbled up, foaming until it reached the rim of the beaker, where it exploded everywhere. Bruce hit the deck, prepared for the explosion, but Steve and Tony got completely soaked. 

“Um, Bruce?” Tony asked. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes!” Bruce popped up. “How about you guys? We should get you into the safety shower, shit, and you should probably get those shirts off…” 

He shoved the two men towards the shower, helping them pull off their shirts in the process. Once they were under the stream, awkwardly facing each other with their shirts gone and their hair plastered to their heads, Bruce turned away, breathing a sigh of relief. Now, a few minutes together under the hot water, and soon….

“Uh, Bruce?” Steve piped up. “Is this stuff supposed to burn?” 

_Shit._

\-----------------------------

Clint was an extraordinarily observant man. He had to be - there were times when his aids didn’t work, or he didn’t feel like wearing them (read, forgot to wear them), and his eyesight was the only way he could interact with the world around him. 

So yes, he had seen Steve and Tony eye fucking each other. Hell, at this point, a Martian could probably see it from Mars, without a telescope. And not only was Clint observant, but he was a man who loved a challenge. If he could get the infamous Black Widow to somehow fall in love with him, there was no way he couldn’t do this.   
His plan was simple - Steve had a habit of spending as much time as physically possible in the lab with Tony, which meant the two of them were alone together a lot. He’d sneak through the vents, shoot a heart shaped arrow at the back of Steve’s head, then lock the two of them in the lab. Steve would get flustered, Tony would think it was adorable, and they’d have to find a way to explain why there was a love-themed arrow flying around. Bada bing, bada boom, they’re together. 

Clint didn’t want to say that he was the cleverest man he knew, but he kind of was. 

He waited patiently until Jarvis informed him that Steve had headed down to the lab, his customary sketchbook tucked under his arm. While Jarvis had never directly said anything to any of the team about getting Tony and Steve together, he’d done little things to help them along - letting them know when Steve and Tony were in the same room, warning them if one or the other was about to walk in on a planning session, so Clint assumed he was in favor of the arrangement. 

Creeping silently through the vents, Clint positioned himself above Steve’s bowed head, nocking the rubber heart-shaped arrow (courtesy of Bruce, who’d thrown himself with almost single-minded intensity into this challenge after he’d nearly burned Steve and Tony’s skin off). He aimed it at the back of Steve’s head, and fired. 

Unfortunately for Clint, he’d forgotten just how strong he was, and even minimal effort from him packed enough force to knock out a super solider. Steve slumped forward, and the arrow went careening off, knocking into a lit Bunsen burner, which fell over onto a stack of papers, which immediately burst into flames. 

“What the fuck?!” Tony exclaimed, staring up at the ceiling before running over to Steve, hauling him back onto the couch. Dum-E, fire extinguisher in claw, raced over the the flaming papers, dousing them in chemical foam. He then trundled over to Tony and Steve, and in an abundance of caution, sprayed both of them with flame suppressant as well. 

Clint fled back through the vents to the sound of Tony’s indignant spluttering. 

\-----------------------

Natasha was surrounded by idiots. Completely incompetent, dangerous idiots. Even her birdbrain had outdone himself in idiocy this time. 

What these men didn’t seem to realize was that getting two people together was one of the easiest things in the world, even with stubborn asses like Steve and Tony. All it took was a little bit of alcohol. 

Or in this case, a lot of very strong alcohol. 

The hardest part of her plan was actually convincing the two of them to start drinking. Tony had significantly reduced his ingestion of the substance over the last six months, and Steve was generally too upstanding to consider getting drunk.That being said, Natasha was a master at the art of manipulation, and after a few shakes of a bottle of black market Russian vodka - the kind of stuff that could strip lead paint - she’d gotten the two of them drinking it down like it was water. 

Unfortunately, they didn’t start getting mushy and profess their love for each other, as she’d hoped. Tony got very hyper, talking so rapidly about quantum physics that she wasn’t even sure that he was breathing. Steve suddenly found everything and everyone hilarious. He’d been rolling around on the floor of the living room for the past half hour, laughing so hard that he was wheezing. She wasn’t even sure what he was laughing at anymore. Either way, there was no confession of feelings, and as patient as she was, she was ready to clobber their heads together. 

Also unfortunate for her? Neither of these two goddamn idiots could hold their liquor. 

Which is how she and Clint now found themselves sitting on the kitchen floor at two in the morning, helping Tony and Steve vomit into trash cans and giving them water. 

“I don’t think this is working,” Clint stage-whispered to Natasha, who merely glared at him.

“What’s not working?” Tony groaned. 

Clint stroked his hair. “Nothing, you sad, drunk billionaire. Nothing.” 

Steve muttered something under his breath, and reached out to pat Tony’s hand. 

Okay, so maybe this was not a _complete_ failure. 

\----------------------------

Natasha was just about ready to give up. Thor had sprained Tony’s wrist, Bruce had nearly given them acid burns, Clint had knocked out Captain America, and she’d nearly poisoned two of the six Avengers. Stubborn Asses: 4, Team Matchmaking: 0. 

The four of them were sitting despondently around the kitchen table, picking at a bowl of popcorn and half-heartedly tossing out new ideas. 

“I can’t believe how impossible this is,” Clint moaned. “This may even be harder than Budapest.” 

“Someday you really will have to tell us about that,” Bruce commented. Natasha shook her head, willing to admit defeat. 

“Four different tactics. Four different failures.” She put her head in her hands. “This may actually be the one mission I can’t complete.” 

“What can’t you complete?” Tony asked, walking into the kitchen with Steve. Natasha eyed them suspiciously. 

“None of your business. What are the two of you up to?” 

Tony’s smile was nearly feral. “Oh, we just figured since all of our teammates tried to kill us within the span of a week, we’d plan a little revenge. I would sleep with one eye open for the next couple of days if I were any of you.” He filled his mug with coffee and gestured to Steve, who shrugged at the rest of his teammates, but looked utterly unapologetic. They headed out of the room, laughing with their heads bent together. Steve slyly placed a hand on the small of Tony's back as they left. 

Slowly, Natasha raised her hand to high-five Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not be disavowed of the belief that Natasha is a secret Disney movie junkie.


	6. Things go Spectacularly to Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony just wants bacon. Clint just wants to watch Project Runway. Hulk just wants to smash something. Fury wants a new job. 
> 
> No one is getting what they want today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo, friends of the interwebs, I have arisen from the death that is finals into the sweet light of summer. 
> 
> My apologies for the delay in posting - first I was caught up studying, then I broke my foot, and it's kind of been a struggle bus the last few weeks. So here's struggle bus chapter which is finally setting up the major plot arc for this part of the series!
> 
> Oh, and it contains some hurt Tony. I do love torturing my babies. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me folks!
> 
> XO - Obsidian

While normal was not necessarily a term bandied about frequently in Avengers Tower, there were at least days that were somewhat less eventful than others. 

This particular day was low key even compared to some of their more mellow moments - Tony had woken up late, lounged around in bed until well after noon, then took a luxurious shower and meandered out into the common lounge, looking for his friends. 

He was greeted in the kitchen by a stack of pancakes and a fantastic view of Steve’s ass. The supersoldier, wearing a pair of tight running pants that left very little to the imagination, was slaving over the stove, carefully tending to at least two dozen eggs. On the counter next to him sat two plates of pancakes - one regular, one chocolate chip - a heap of bacon, a bowl of fresh cut fruit, and a pitcher of orange juice. The other Avengers were hanging around in various states of repose, squabbling over the crossword and nibbling at Steve’s brunch feast. 

He waved hello and went directly over to the coffee maker, drawing Steve’s attention. 

“Afternoon, Tony,” he said, smiling so brightly that Tony forgot his own name for a second. “How do you like your eggs?” 

Tony eyed the griddle. “Not a big fan of eggs, to be honest. But I’ll take some pancakes and bacon,” he added hastily, as Steve’s face started to fall. 

Steve gestured. “Of course, help yourself! But you have to eat some fruit with that bacon.”

“You’re such a dad,” Tony grumbled, and Steve’s face flushed a delectable pink. 

“Yeah, well, sue me for wanting to keep my team alive and well,” he mumbled, turning back to the stove and shifting from foot to foot. 

Tony piled a plate high with food and grabbed his coffee mug. He walked past Clint, nudging the archer as he went. “There was a new episode of Project Runway last night, I had Jarvis record it.” 

Clint fist pumped the air. “Yes, we’re going to watch right now!” 

Tony and Clint went into the living room, setting up shop on the couch. Natasha trailed in after them, curling herself up into Clint’s side and stealing a piece of bacon from Tony’s plate. The genius hissed at her, and she rolled her eyes. 

“What are you, a cat?” 

“A tiger,” Tony responded. “A very territorial tiger when it comes to my bacon.” 

“Aye,” Thor agreed as he joined them, getting comfortable on the bean bag chair that Clint brought with him when he moved in. “On Asgard, it is a grievous offense to steal a shield brother's meal.” 

Clint stared at him. “You can’t be serious?” 

“Indeed not,” Thor told him solemnly, a twinkle in his eye. “Food is one of the only things I am always serious about, Master Barton.” 

Bruce snorted as he settled in next to Tony, taking another piece of bacon off of his plate. 

“Excuse me!” Tony protested. “I pay for all of this food, is it too much to ask to be able to eat some of it?” 

“Don’t worry, Tony,” Steve laughed as he walked into the room, a tray of food in each hand. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” 

Tony clasped a hand over his heart. “My hero.” 

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Just play the episode.” 

“Jarvis, Project Runway us,” Tony said. 

“Of course Sir,” Jarvis said, pulling up the DVR. 

Just then, of course, the Avengers Assemble alarm went off. 

\----------------

“This is criminal,” Tony complained. “I mean, this is really the worst of the worst. What kind of sick, twisted person interrupts Project Runway?” 

“Only the slimiest of the slime,” Clint moaned over the comms. “There should be serious retribution for this.” 

“Chatter,” Fury interrupted. “It needs to stop now.” 

Steve grunted an agreement, slamming his shield into a charging triceratops. “Has anyone figured out how to send these dinosaurs back to where they belong?” 

“Things I never thought I would hear,” Natasha commented. “This would be first on that list.” 

“We need you to find whoever is behind the attack,” Fury said. “Richards said that he can reverse the portal polarity if he can get the original frequency.” 

“Unbelievable,” Tony said. “You brought Richards into this? Why on earth would you ask that pompous, narcissistic, arrogant -” 

“Tony,” Steve called. “Focus, please? You can bash Richards later.” 

Tony avoided a dive attack from the pterodactyl he was currently fighting. “I am going to take you up on that Capsicle, don’t think I’m going to forget.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” Steve said wryly. 

“Okay but seriously,” Clint said, a faint twanging sound coming over his line. “Does anyone have any suggestions on how to keep these things corralled? Because these triceratops seem very intent on exploring brunch spots in Hell’s Kitchen.” 

“Hulk smash?” the Hulk asked hopefully. He’d been tasked with sitting on top of a subdued T-rex, but the big green guy was starting to get antsy. 

“Not yet,” Steve said. “Natasha, Clint, get some of those flares Tony designed and start setting up a perimeter. Smallest radius we can get it.” 

“It warms the cockles of my heart every time you want to use my tech to destroy bad guys, it really does,” Tony said, clasping one armored hand over his heart. 

He could practically hear Steve’s eye roll in his response. “Tony, my shield is your tech. Your suit is your tech. Every single one of us has your tech. I don’t exactly have a choice as to whether or not I use it in battle. It’d be wasteful if I didn’t.” 

Tony watched from above as Steve bashed his way through a gaggle of velociraptors, admiring the way that sweat gleamed along his jawline. “Well, when you put it that way….and for the record, Thor still refuses to use any of my tech.” 

There was an affirmative grunt from the demigod, who was currently trying to wrestle the second T-rex to the ground. 

“Iron Man!” Clint barked out in warning, and Tony swerved in the nick of time as another pterodactyl swooped down at him. 

“Eyes on the sky, Iron Man,” Steve ordered, back in Captain America mode. 

“Sir, yes sir,” Tony saluted, and spiraled upwards to blast a couple more of the ugly flying creatures down. “Jarvis, how are we doing on locating the originating signal?” 

“Still processing, Sir,” Jarvis responded. “Estimated time of triangulation, 47 seconds.” 

“Speed that up J, we’re not going to be able to get all of these things down without major structural damage to Midtown,” Tony ordered. 

“Triangulation complete, Sir,” Jarvis said, flashing a location up on the visor screen.

Tony nodded. “Cap, I’ve got the source of the portal. Headed there now to shut them down and get the portal frequency for Richards.” 

“Be careful,” Steve ordered. 

Tony veered sharply, speeding past several blocks of confused dinosaurs and landing heavily on a nearby rooftop. Sure enough, there was a small, unassuming device in the center of the roof, beeping steadily and sending wild readings through his data analysis programs. 

“Fury, your guys getting this at SHIELD?” Tony asked. 

“Loud and clear,” the director said. “Do what you can to figure it out.” 

Tony approached the device cautiously, examining it from all sides. It really was a lovely piece of technology, all curved black edges and a simple transmitter causing so much chaos. He wondered if Fury would let him have it after they were done, to examine the coding. He highly doubted it. 

As he came round the back of the device, three distinct letters came into view, and he swore. 

“Report in, Iron Man,” Steve said immediately. 

“Our good friends at A.I.M. are to thank for this delightful Project Runway-ruining interruption,” Tony said, crouching down to examine the device more closely. “Fury, get Richards on the line, I want him seeing this.” 

“On it,” Fury grunted. 

“It’s an interesting piece of tech,” Tony mused, skimming the data readouts Jarvis was sending him. “If I could tweak the range of frequency….”

“We’re trying to shut this thing down, not make it better,” Clint reminded him. 

“Right,” Tony nodded swiftly. “The one thing I don’t understand is how the idiots at A.I.M. came up with this. It’s a little above their pay grade.” 

“We at A.I.M. are not opposed to a little friendly collaboration, Mr. Stark,” came a new voice from behind him. Tony whirled around, dropping into a defensive position. 

“Iron Man, report,” Steve demanded. “Who’s there?” 

“A wannabe bad guy,” Tony replied, specifically not mentioning the very large and very dangerous gun pointed right at him. “Probably sent to babysit this thing.” 

The man in front of him sneered. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Stark, that the protection of this device is of utmost importance. You have no idea what Scientist Supreme and our new partner are preparing for. You and your little friends are hardly a match for what is to come.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “End of the world, yada yada, we’ve heard it all before. Do any of you idiots have any original monologues?” 

“There is no more need for monologues, Mister Stark,” the man said, cocking the gun. “Only goodbyes.” 

Tony raised his hands to fire repulsors at the man, focused solely on the threat in front of him. So focused, in fact, that he didn’t see the second A.I.M. agent behind him. So focused, he didn’t feel the blast until it hit him squarely in the back, pain burning and flaring, sending him tumbling over the edge of the roof. 

He blacked out before he reached the ground. 

Steve, on the other hand, had been doing everything he could to get to Tony’s location since the moment he’d heard the A.I.M agent’s voice over the comms. It was barely three blocks away, but it felt like miles. He’d dodged snapping teeth, sharp horns, and trampling legs nearly thick around as Thor’s body, but it still didn’t feel fast enough. 

It felt just like it had when Bucky fallen from the train - everything was moving in slow motion, and he couldn’t get his body to move quickly enough. 

He wasn’t sure why he was so desperate. But there was this ache in his gut telling him that something was _wrong_ , _to get to Tony before_ \- 

Before he lost someone else. 

But as always, it was too late - he was too late. 

Steve could only watch helplessly as Tony was blasted off of the roof, unable to stop him as he fell six stories, plummeting through the air. Unable to do anything as Tony crashed into the street, unmoving, the reactor dark and silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so not 100% happy with this chapter BUT AT LEAST IT'S SOMETHING


	7. Shaking, Tired, Looking Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers worry, Rhodes is pissed, and several nurses have earned themselves some serious vacation time for managing six superheroes. 
> 
> Steve's ready for some honest conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE 
> 
> I am so sorry for abandoning you all this summer. There were a number of professional and personal things that came up that I had to deal with, and then I was abroad sans computer, so I didn't have a lot of time for writing/posting. 
> 
> I shall make it up to you! Have a chapter with fluff, and look out for more coming soon!
> 
> Also fair warning this isn't really IM3 compliant. 
> 
> XO - Obsidian

Eight hours. 

It had been eight hours since Tony was blasted backwards off of a New York rooftop, falling unchecked until he hit the ground at full force. 

Eight hours since Thor and Hulk had pummeled two A.I.M. agents into bits and pieces, not holding back an ounce of their strength. 

Eight hours since Reed Richards had managed to reverse the polarity of whatever the fuck that object was, sending the dinosaurs rampaging through the city back to the right era. 

Eight hours since he’d ripped the armor off of his lifeless friend, Natasha hovering anxiously at his side as Clint called in S.H.I.E.L.D medical. Eight hours since he’d watched the reactor flicker valiantly back to life, shocking the genius’s heart back into motion but not awakening him. Eight hours since Natasha had shoved him aside so the paramedics could get to Tony, and he watched helplessly as the man that he loved was taken away on a stretcher, medical professionals shouting words that might as well have been gibberish, for all he could understand them through the fog in his brain. 

Eight hours, and he still didn’t know if Tony would live through the night. 

After the paramedics had rushed Tony to the nearest hospital, Natasha and Clint had helped him to his feet and led him to the waiting QuinJet, leaving Thor, a very muddled Bruce, and a severely pissed-off Maria Hill to deal with cleanup. They followed the ambulance to the hospital, landing on the roof and hustling to the emergency room as quickly as they could. There, Natasha bullied a nurse into giving them information on Tony’s condition, only to be told that he’d been rushed to an operating room nearly as soon as he’d been triaged. 

Steve had come back to himself enough to stumble over to a chair, the poor object creaking under his weight as he practically collapsed into it. Natasha sat next to him, a warm, comforting presence at his side, while Clint stalked off, phone in his hand, to update Fury on the situation. 

Natasha ran a soothing hand up and down the length of his spine. “The doctors here are good, Steve, some of the best. And Tony has been through worse.” 

Her words, while intended to be comforting, held no promises. Steve knew what that was like, the kind of realism that led people to face the truth of a dire situation. She couldn’t promise that Tony would be okay. She knew that Tony might not be. 

“Someone should call Pepper,” he croaked out hoarsely. He wondered vaguely when he’d lost his voice. Probably screaming Tony’s name over and over, begging him to wake up. The Avengers PR team was going to kill him when footage of him sobbing over Tony’s prone body - which he had no doubt existed - made its way to the twenty-four hour news cycle. “And Colonel Rhodes.” 

Natasha nodded. “I’ll have Clint contact them.” 

“And Jarvis,” he said. “Someone should let him and the bots know -” 

“Steve,” Natasha cut him off, not unkindly. “We’ll take care of everything. Why don’t you go wash up, okay?” 

He nodded, inhaling a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay, I’ll just…” 

He staggered back to his feet, making his way over to the nearest bathroom and locking the door behind him. Catching sight of his reflection in the mirror, he hardly recognized the person who looked back at him. He was covered in dust and sweat, a thin trickle of blood on the side of his cheek from where one of the velociraptors had gotten in a lucky swipe. His eyes were sunken and haunted, the eyes of a man who’d lost too much. 

He closed his eyes, and Tony’s still face morphed into Bucky’s horrified look as he fell from the train, which morphed into the fierce, heartbroken face of Peggy Carter as they kissed for the first and last time. 

He opened his eyes again, and could have sworn he saw the ghost of his mother behind him, smiling sadly in the mirror. 

Steve shook his head to shake away the memories, turning on the faucet and splashing his face and neck with water, scrubbing at his skin with paper towels until it was pink and clean. 

Once he was appropriately washed up, feeling a little calmer, he made his way back out to the waiting room. Natasha was still sitting where he left her, Clint now next to her with an arm around her shoulder, tapping out words on her thigh with his index finger in a rhythm that Steve recognized as Morse code. Her hand was clasped around the back of his neck, and Steve’s heart ached, seeing the familiar touch. 

Clint looked up as he sat down next to them. “Fury’s apprised of the situation, and Thor and Bruce will be heading over here as soon as they get done with cleanup, which should be pretty soon. Pepper’s approved us all as next of kin so the doctor will let us know as soon as they have any updates.” 

Steve nodded. “Thanks, Clint.” 

The archer patted him on the knee. “Iron Ass won’t give up on us this easy. We’ve still got to find out which of the designers Heidi Klum will vote off.” 

Steve snorted at that, a little warmth worming its way back into his numb limbs. “Of course. No one would want to miss such an important event.” 

With that, they settled into silence and waiting. 

The hours stretched on interminably. Steve alternated between pacing back and forth between the door and the desk and sitting stock-still, the only movement his knee bouncing nervously. 

A few hours in, Thor and Bruce joined them, Bruce in a new set of clothes and both bearing gifts of coffee and donuts. Steve drank the coffee just for something to do with his hands, but ignored the food - his stomach felt leaden and heavy in the bottom of his abdomen. 

Each of the Avengers was withdrawn into their own world, processing the stress of the situation. Natasha and Clint had inched impossibly closer, and were now so intertwined that there was no way to tell where one spy ended and the other began. Their eyes, however, were glassy and vacant, both lost in memories. 

Bruce was exhibiting a truly exemplary amount of calm, alternating between meditating quietly in a corner and staring at the fish floating gently through the aquarium at the far end of the waiting room. Thor was snoring, passed out in a chair next to Clintasha. The only sign of his stress was the way his hand clenched around Mjolnir.  
“He’ll be fine,” Steve found himself saying out loud. No one responded. 

Shortly after, Steve was startled out of a mindless reverie as the automatic doors slid open, and Colonel James Rhodes strode into the hospital with a single minded intent, making a beeline for the nurses’ station. He had a brief, tense conversation with the nurse there, then swiveled, clearly looking for the Avengers. 

When he found them, he made his way over, nodding in greeting and sitting down next to Steve. 

“Colonel Rhodes, I’m so sorry,” Steve started, but the other man shook his head and held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. 

“No apologies necessary, Captain,” Rhodes said. “I know Tony. This is hardly the first time I’ve had to sit in a hospital waiting room worrying over his sorry ass.” 

Steve winced, disliking the thought of Tony being alone in the hospital, no one but Rhodes to worry over him or visit. 

“What happened this time?” Rhodes asked, clearly sensing his discomfort and redirecting the conversation. 

“AIM created some kind of time vortex machine, set dinosaurs loose in Midtown,” Steve said. “Tony tried to shut down the machine, and some of the agents ambushed him.” 

Rhodes frowned. “I’m sorry, AIM created a time vortex? That seems a little advanced for what they’ve been able to do so far.” 

Natasha perked up, joining the conversation. “I had the same thought, Rhodey. So did Tony. The goons who attacked him mentioned something about collaboration.” 

Bruce frowned. “Collaboration? With who?” 

“Someone who has access to tech that’s nearly as advanced as something Tony or Richards could come up with,” Steve said. “Maybe HammerTech?” 

Rhodey glowered. “Unlikely. The company’s been seriously struggling since Hammer’s arrest. I doubt they’ve had time to come up with stuff like that.” 

“Whoever it is, we’re going to have to figure out what AIM wants with the technology now that they have it,” Clint chimed in. “I doubt dinosaur stampedes are their ultimate goal.” 

Rhodey nodded in agreement. “I’ll look into some channels, see if I can figure out who AIM’s partner is. You’ll keep me updated on Tony’s condition?”  
Steve nodded wordlessly. Clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder, Rhodey moved back towards the door, pulling out his phone as he went. 

The Avengers lapsed back into silence, and Steve glanced up at the clock. _Twelve hours._

“Family of Tony Stark?” a nurse called out, and visibly started when six superheroes suddenly appeared in front of her with inhuman speed. 

“How fares our shield brother?” Thor asked, his hand clasped steadily on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Mr. Stark is resting in ICU at the moment,” the nurse said faintly. “He had surgery to repair a collapsed lung sustained in the fall. Along with multiple contusions and bleeding, he has a couple of broken ribs and we’ll check for head injury once he’s lucid.” 

She smiled at the worried family clustered in front of her. “However, the doctor is confident that with rest and proper care, Mr. Stark will make a full recovery and return to the field shortly.” 

A tidal wave of relief crashed through Steve’s limbs, leaving his hands shaking and his knees weak. Thor tightened his hold on his shoulder, and exchanged a happy grin with Bruce. 

“We’ll allow one visitor at a time into the ICU to see him,” the nurse continued, and Natasha immediately shoved Steve forward. He stumbled, caught himself, and grinned sheepishly at the nurse. “If you don’t mind showing me the way, ma’am?” 

Clint snorted behind him, and he followed the nurse down the hall, turning a couple of corners before the nurse stopped in front of a set of glass doors. “Right through there, Captain. Third to last bed on the left.” 

He thanked her and stepped into the room, walking quickly towards Tony’s bed. 

Tony looked fairly good, all things considered. There was a scrape along his temple that had been neatly taped, and his chest moved only lightly, clearly restricted by the bandages, but he had only an oxygen cannula, not a mask, and his brow was smooth with painless sleep. 

Steve sat down heavily, and took Tony’s cold hand in his, tracing over the silvery scars that years of working with his hands had left on the engineer. His eyes tracked the way Tony’s impossibly long eyelashes fluttered against his skin, thin lines of ink against the soft vellum of his cheek. Reaching out to swipe a thumb along his jaw, Steve noted that there were bags under his eyes again, and the stubble on his chin was at least three days old. He’d been spending too much time in the lab again.  
Steve smiled softly to himself. He’d have to get Tony to rest once he was allowed to come home, or risk Pepper’s ire. He imagined days lounging on the couch, Tony wrapped tightly in blankets as he complained over whatever B-list sci-fi movie Bruce has picked out for them. The image thawed the last frozen recesses in his body, and he felt himself relax fully for the first time in twelve hours. 

“You’re going to be okay,” he said, his voice thick with promise. “And when you are, we’re going to have a talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from lyrics from "Hear Your Heart", a beautiful song by James Bay!


End file.
